


Safe in my arms

by Whaler



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Broken Soul, Emotional Sex, M/M, War Crimes, alternate universe - no Atlantis and anything supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:06:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whaler/pseuds/Whaler
Summary: Lykaon and Alexios have broken up three years ago when Alexios has chosen to look for his family and have some adventure.Life hadn't happened though the way he planned it and the man who arrived back at Phokis wasn't the man ho left it. The physical and mental scars the war left on him changed him forever, the decisions he's made broke him. There are things that houldn't be forgiven, especially if you betray everything your lover believes in on the way.





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, hello!  
> This won't be a very long fic. 5 short chapter according to plan and will mostly be feelings, talking about the past and porn.
> 
> I played this game killing everybody I could literally, family too, sometimes civilians if they came too near. Please don't judge.
> 
> But then my friend played almost entirely nonlethal and that made me think.  
> That's how this fic was born. Ta-daaa
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to my other work I'm way more confident in English. Said more confident, not better, so yeah.  
> Enjoy

It had been a remarkably frosty winter – remarkably as in these parts of the Mediterranean. They had snow, ice, hypothermia, frostbite, everything. Like the hearts of the gods itself turned cold for their humans – as his grandmother would  say. He hadn’t talked too much to her lately – lately as it in years –, nor to his family for that matter. He wasn't some big believer either, the gods hardly ever helped no matter how much his patients prayed and if something they caused wars and suffering. The war that… -- he looked out of the window – that war.

He sighted. Winter and snow hadn’t stopped the offensives, and he wondered whether the gods would try to stop them this way. But alas, if they were watching they liked the show.  

He hadn’t cared much about the gods, though he did most things their way. It was easier for him and for his patients. The beliefs gave hope and peace to the dying - with that he could compromise and for himself… maybe one day the war would be over letting go whatever left of the men fighting it. He thought about the Spartans and his fist clenched. That folk he hated: their arrogance, their glorification of power and violence, the way they handled their children made his stomach turn, made him think about the countless wounded he failed to save trying to somehow keep their organs inside their torn abdominals while the families cried outside. For the locals that is, the soldiers died alone far from home and sometimes that felt more jarring.

He thought about one man in particular and the stories he heard about him from the soldiers stationed in Phokis. Now they were under Spartan reign again but that too changed in every few weeks. Like the people around, he hardly saw the same faces twice. They died far faster than anyone could follow. He got himself thinking about that man more often these days and wondered if the note of the man’s death if or when it happens would ever reach him so far out in the fields of Phokis.

There was a knock on the door and he opened it to a local man with some meat and bread in his hand. The man sniffed the air inside and nodded in appreciation. His dinner was bubbling over the fire and the house was filled with the delicious aroma.

The man shivered in the cold wind finding its way through the open door. He closed it after him.

“I brought you some fresh meat, doctor, and some bread too, as thanks for the other day.”

“That really isn’t necessary.”

“Nah, just accept it, please. Ain’t nobody here who would’ve… You know, the others just watched. Nobody dared to help my child.” The man sounded angry just for a moment, but his daughter was fine now, she recovered almost completely from the encounter with the soldiers and her father couldn’t do anything to revenge her anyway.

The young woman got herself into trouble with the men who robbed their farm. They had beaten her and she would have bled out if he didn’t interfere against the direct order and threat of the Spartans. Though he didn’t felt any better about this one, these days it felt like he was trying to keep everything in place in a gale that messed up everything again the moment he turned his head, like he tried to juggle a thousand balls with one hand.

Still he smiled.

“Thank you, Artos. Can I get you anything?”

“Naw, it’s cold and I still need to cut some wood for morning before nightfall. You got enough wood, doctor?”

The village cared about him and after all these years that still warmed his heart when he met it so blatantly.

“I’m all set, thank you.”

The man nodded sternly. “As you should in a weather like this.” he looked out just as the wind got harder again whistling on the sharp edges of the house.

“By the way…”the man continued “there was a man in the tavern today, at the one near the wall, asking about you.”

“Do you know why? Is he a soldier; need of a doctor?”

“Well he looked… not well.” the man scratched his head. “I couldn’t see his face under the hood but he looked wounded. He was a mercenary type by those big weapons.”

That got his attention.

“Did he have an Eagle with him?”

Back then there were mornings when he was lying on the coats, a man sleeping behind him, embracing him even in his dreams; lazy mornings where Ikaros flew down to them, stood next to his hand and looked at him with those knowing eyes head tilted to the side slightly. It was like the bird talked to him, like he approved of them. He’ve promised him he will take care of the man as long as he can. Silly of course… Silly of him.

“If he had one with him, I hadn’t seen it, but he asked if you still live here, are all right, happy… these kind of things.”

Everyone in the village knew about him and the Eagle Bearer back then because they had a pair of fine eyes and adequate common sense. Sometimes he felt like their love in those few months couldn’t be more obvious if they wrote it on their foreheads. But those few months ended three years ago without any promises, any letter, possibly without any chance to see each other again.

He accepted the cold farewell and haven't been waiting for Alexios. It would’ve been the stupidest, most pointless thing to do.

“He said he’ll set sail the morning.” the village man added.

“Do you think it was him?”

The man shrugged. “I couldn’t see his face and it’s not the place where my kinda questions would’ve been appreciated. I just sold some meat. ”

“Anyway, he knows where I live. If he intends to leave without a word then he shall do exactly that.”

Despite what’s been said he found himself restlessly pacing in the hut after the hunter left, thoughts returning again and again to the possibly wounded possibly Alexios. He had a hunch it was him, felt it in his gut, and even if he was mistaken, if this particular man would turn out not to be him, still maybe he would know something about whether the mercenary was alive, his life turned out well, if he had a family, a home, if he found what he was looking for so far out in the world…

He had still a few hours before nightfall, he would’ve to spend the night in the city but he needed to go there in the next few days anyway. There was no real reason not to go: except getting killed or worse at that underworld place. Than that, he hoped, they would be more civilized. One could never know with these bandits, mercenaries and Spartans. The irony wasn’t lost on him with this one.

The fire got put out, a mantle was put on and a door got shut after him for that night.

  
  



	2. Tavern

It was already dark when he arrived to the tavern the village man talked about: to that raffish, cheap, infamous one where criminals and fugitives spent the night. The place was heavy with grey smoke and the sour smell of sweat, stale alcohol, and people who considered bathing a once in a lifetime experience. The place filled that cold night, men were shouting at each other, a promise of a serious fray hanged on the air.

Some recognized him and arched an eyebrow, but he ignored them stepping to the owner.

“I’m looking for…” In that exact moment he noticed the mercenary in one of the dark corners.

“Nevermind.”

He shouldn’t have been able to recognize the man from the deep hood on his head, but he did it anyway. The man's hand tightened around his cup and he pulled it closer to himself as he approached. The whole man tried to look smaller, like to protect himself, trying to turn invisible.

He wasn’t up to that nonsense and stopped at his table.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but my friends from the village informed me that you were asking about me… Alexios.” He tried to find a way of avoiding shouting and still being able to be heard. It required great talent.

The man winced at the name and was burning a hole into the table with his gaze. His hand not around the cup was shaking so he shoved it under the table.

Alexios looked… worse for wear. Scarred, beaten, neglected, wounded deeper than the flesh. That warm-hearted, optimist, ridiculously confident Alexios was almost just a shell now, a ghost of a man he knew.

“Can I sit?”

Still no answer but the man slid away a bit making room. He sat down and still got ignored, well, not ignored, he felt the man tensing, heard that hard breath through the noise of the tavern. He always had an ear and an eye for important details. Alexios seemed like a wounded, betrayed child, who suffered so much he couldn’t even talk about it, a kid alone for so long he couldn’t trust anybody around him anymore. That wouldn’t be his first abused child, nor his first adult. He treated many man traumatized in war mentally and physically. But of course this was different, he was involved in this one.

From the lack of male family and lovers he never thought he would have to deal with this from this close. To see Alexios again like this – without the joy and life in his eyes, without the smile in the corner of his mouth, without the shameless confidence in his posture – was even more shocking. The man he saw here broke his heart and made him detest the war around the Greek world deeper than ever before. He felt the hatred coursing through him, but he was a master at not showing these kinds of emotions.

“It’s said you sail out come morning.”

Alexios let out a dark chuckle.

“I tell myself that for almost two weeks now.”

“You’ve been here that long and didn't contact me.”

“I wanted to, tried, but… you shouldn’t have seen me like this.”

“Broken? Wounded?”

Alexios motioned something vague that could've been a sign of agreement.

„Yet here we are.”

„How long it was?” the mercenary asked. It was hard to have any conversation in that noise. At the other corner of the tavern some brutes had broken a table and the owner was shouting, threatening them with a poker.

„Three years, a bit more.”

Alexios was measuring his cup, playing with the wine. He looked passably drunk.

„Three years two months and twenty days.” the man said quietly.

„You left with a far lighter heart than you deserve to remember so accurately.”

There was a scold in his voice that he hadn’t intended. Their farewell hasn’t been heavy, complicated, or painful – from the outside. He had known what he was agreeing to from the beginning, Alexios played with open cards in that, and both of them stood up without a word when the Adrestia arrived at the harbor. No matter how great their love had been or at least how great it had felt, Alexios hasn't looked back leaving the village. Hadn’t even let his lover accompany him to the docks.

„I’d been excited looking for my family. I was just about to meet the world seeing at last more of it than Kephalonia.”

And he was too young to give up on that or missing out on meeting new people because of a lover. He understood that. And if his own family would’ve been out there, he would’ve gone after them too. He just hadn’t really expected him to come back. Wished maybe, but not expected.

„Haven’t it turned out like that?”

A long pause followed as Alexios sorted his thoughts casting nervous, longing glances to the side.

“It has. It had been… a lot. I've seen various lands, met people, defeated some very bad ones and made friends with some of the greatest leaders of the free world.” The strain in his words made him question how great it all actually has been. “I haven't written you, because my enemies could’ve found you… and I wasn’t sure you would want me to after… how I’ve left.”

Alexios casted a glance at him at that, like the man expected him to stand up and leave in any moment. When it didn’t happen he continued diffidently.

“I've written so many letters in my head about what I’ve found: you would’ve loved Hippocrates, would’ve adored Pericles, would’ve been fast friends with Socrates and Alcibiades would’ve gotten you uncomfortable till you get to know him better… I wish I could’ve shown you the world I’ve seen.”

“Why did you come back then, Alexios? Are you feeling this bad?”

The man flinched.

„Are you still angry with me?”

„I’m not angry. I wasn’t and I won’t be” he sighed laying his hand gently over Alexios’ under the table. The man clenched it like he was holding for life. His heart ached for him and for the man he said goodbye a few years ago.

“But you haven't waited for me.” Alexios managed.

And for what should he have been waiting for?

“We talked about this before you left.”

“Have you married? Do you have somebody you love? Are you…?”

„Did you come back to me, Alexios?”

A second long silence sat down to the table to them, heavier than the one before. The tavern in the other hand was livelier than ever, most of the men got drunk and dangerous.

„No” came the strained answer. That was the most obvious lie he heard in a long time.

He didn’t tell him sulking in an infamous tavern hiding and asking questions from strangers is not the way to win back a lover. He didn’t tell him that because he wasn’t a cruel man. The people around him considered him gentle and he was from the outside - although someone too gentle couldn’t have been a doctor at war times. He loved to make people happy, feel safe and cared for, was considerat to almost everyone and kept his comments to himself when they would’ve caused unnecessary pain. Gentle, right. That was one of the things bringing Alexios and him together too despite the man being a Spartan and a mercenary.

Yes, he should’ve known better, but – he guessed – he wasn’t that smart in the end as he liked to think. He loved an Alexios once, a man now broken and strained, holding onto him still under the table as if he was the only thing keeping him sane in this world.

„I haven’t waited for you but I promised myself I will only give my life to a love at least as great as ours was. I will only marry someone I love at least as much as I loved you, as long as I don’t get news about you finding or losing your life elsewhere.”

Alexios looked at him with so much longing as a beaten, bleeding puppy to a kid with a blanket. He knew the man associated him with safety and family being the orphan he was, but again, he never expected seeing that expression again. Gazing into the mercenary’s big brown doe eyes felt like he could see directly into his heart. He saw pain, love, self-loath, disgust, questions and desire, but as he reached for him to touch his cheeks Alexios pulled back. Like a tortured child. He was hurt badly, his very soul scarred.

“What happened to you, Alexios?”

The man opened his mouth to answer then closed it, watched the desk again and their hands sticking out under the wood. The noises of the tavern turned to ever more aggressive, louder and distracting, there was a fight in provoking. This was no place for Alexios, his weary eyes threw nervous glances around the mob and his weapons as if calculating when he should interfere to save themself. Save his doctor.

He sighted.

“I won’t let you stay here.” It was too dark to chance the road home sadly. “We move somewhere decent, get your bearings!”

Alexios looked at him with so much gratitude he felt the weight of how much the man needed him. And with that offer of his it was decided he would stay, would do anything for this man, as a doctor, as a friend, as a… whatever he needed, his own feelings be damned. Once he loved an Alexios, a man he never got really over.

“You were happy here, weren’t you?” he asked.  

The mercenary just looked back at him, eyes storming with emotion and insecurities. He nodded, but that nod said more than any word could’ve. Well then – he thought. It already seemed like a long night.

He was left alone with Alexios’ wine. It tasted something awful.


	3. Inn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took out the pwp tag. It had supposed to be one but I realised its not gonna happen the way I first thought.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy

There was a discrete inn in Delphi – famously so in a city where people defined discretion as ‘eavesdropping not too evidently’. He ordered a tub of warm water and a small pot of oil on the way toward their room at the back. The owner hadn’t bat an eye just took Alexios’ money – with moderate extra charge. Most places had an uncomfortable unwillingness to accommodate mercenaries. Good money, but blood was hard to clean -- he knew that all too well. Alexios haven’t opposed for a minute and didn’t let him pay for anything.

Putting the pot beside the bed in their room held the promise of a long night, passionate sex whatever may come in the morning, or whoever may go - he added bitterly. The man in question was standing at the door, watching the pot, the bed, him, trying to come to terms with the inner turmoil, getting himself together, playing it off, but a serious glance from him broke the facade before it could’ve started. He knew how to deal with the broken, even if Alexios was different.

The servant filled the wooden tub with water while they stood there at the opposite sides of the room watching and waiting. Just after the stranger left he stepped forth.

“You should undress.”

“Rather not…”

Again he looked defensive, almost like he was hiding to himself at the middle of the room. Inadequate hiding place and a heart quenching sight. Back then Alexios ruled the place wherever he went, his presence was dominant against anybody else. If Alexios was somewhere he _was_ there and made everyone know about it. The king and voice of every gathering.

He rolled his eyes about that and teased him sometimes. Mostly he was just proud of his lover.

The day the man arrived to the village had been like any other. Alexios was still bleeding but already conversing with everyone, already feeling home and owning the place. Back then he was just a guy on a mission to get some money, not yet an infamous mercenary. He saw the man’s eyes as they first took notice of each other. Then and there it was decided. Alexios volunteered to pick flowers for him. Love at first sight. Gods it was so silly of him.

“I don’t know when was the last time you washed up, but it wasn’t recently.” he got back on track.

“That bad, huh?”

“No” he sighted. „But to get better the first step is looking decent. You look like as you feel yourself and you look awful. So you’ll take a bath, I’ll braid your hair, and you’ll tell me what happened!”

Alexios looked at him astonished, with love and gratitude even if still lost, unsure, and small for such a great soul he has been before. The man looked at his hand as if seizing up the problem, weapons still on his back, clothes torn and dirty.

He approached him, cupped his face to make the man pay attention, felt the stubble in his palm, the hard gulp, felt the gaze burning him up, the tremor running through the higher body.

„You’re safe now, Alexios, I’ll take care of you.” he said gently.

The man gripped his cloths as an answer, pulled him in, kept him close, nose in his hair breathing him in. He pulled him even closer, embraced him back, let the man hide his face into his neck while he petted his head, caressed his back; let their bodies slide against each other as perfectly fit as three years ago.

“I missed you so much. So much, Lykaon, I…” But he stepped back hesitantly, like the motion itself caused pain. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“And still, here we are.” He said again sighting. “I wouldn’t want you anywhere else. Now undress!”

“Will you be watching?”

“Yes.”

“As a doctor?”

The man seemed hopeful and still insecure. They joked about him being a doctor back then, one could stuff so much innuendo behind that word, but never joked about Alexios being a mercenary or going away in a few months. That wasn’t funny at all.

It always felt like he was the one who had more to lose, now seeing Alexios he wasn’t so sure.

“We will see about that.”

The mercenary nodded but still hesitated, then took off his weapons first, set them into the corner. They were followed by the armor, the shoes till only the chiton was left, arms and legs on the open.

His eyes wandered the man’s body and Alexios blushed. The man hardly ever blushed, had too big of a mouth and too vivid imagination to be even slightly embarrassed. He could wear nothing like the most expensive clothing, flex and pose like a god – could’ve rivaled any sculpture that’s for sure.

He never cared about that though. It was nice having Alexios’ big arms around himself, that strong back to push back to, those massive legs holding him up; he liked that, but loved the man due to his jokes, confidence, warm heart, optimism and helpfulness. He loved the man lying in his bed naked talking about the things he’d planned for that day: the errands, the field work, helping him out at the clinic.

But of course Alexios was bound to a life of greater deeds: massacring soldier in battles and outside for money. Great life indeed, Spartan blood. Then again, the man’s been a misthios all his life. He blamed Marcos for that and Nicolaos and Sparta and a lot of other people in Alexios’ life himself included sometimes.

Helping out at the Chora of Delphi and the villages around it, being a _healer_ was enough for him. His very presence and whole being was about healing – rebuilding anything, anyone, anyhow he could. It had always been enough, but it couldn’t’ve been enough for anyone – _and_ he had know Alexios was a mercenary. He loved him knowing that. He was stronger than people gave him credit for.

He wondered how great of a part this place being a shelter played in Alexios’ return and how much he himself did.

He wondered whether he is the same man as before.

And they were at it again; he watching the strong build of his ex, the scars he was familiar with and the new ones on a flushed Alexios who avoided his gaze. Ridiculous man... – Again, he didn’t tell him that. Three years or not the man woke his instinct of love and protection, just like the first time they’ve met. Although now he knew how it feels like to love the man, keep him safe and be loved in return. It should’ve made their interaction now easier. It hasn’t. Just made it hard on another way.

Alexios was arm’s reach away and he touched those big muscles, run his fingers lightly on the scars on the upper arm, draw patterns feeling the soft and rough patches of the skin. The man closed his eyes, clenched his fist probably for not to manhandle him to the bed then and there. This wouldn’t have been the first instance of that and he usually didn’t protest. After all he did have a thing for this big muscled man pushing him into a bed, it just wasn’t priority. Most thought he would be easy prey considering his kind heart and gentleness, but he was absolutely no-nonsense in any serious situation and he knew Alexios loved that about him.

He unmade the chiton, ordered Alexios to hold his arms up as he took it off. He haven’t told him exactly to let them down so the man kept his arms up – as a sign to make him lead now, make him take control. Pull the weight of being the strong one in the room off of his shoulders. Shield him, protect him, heal him...

His motions never faltered, thought it had been a rare thing back then and never before had it made him so uncomfortable.

First time it happened after they talked about his family and the death of Nicolaos, how his father tossed him off of a mountain. What had happened and what he did to Nikolaos later shattered Alexios and the man looked up at him from the ground after the story ended and he just knew, knew what he was asking for. For him to keep him safe, for it to be okay to be vulnerable and soft and weak and sad just for a second, a few hours without his armor without his weapons, without his facades. For him to embrace him, lead him, love him, use him, protect him while making him even more vulnerable, more soft, more broken…

And he did. Never really hurt him though, that was something he wasn’t capable of.  He lead with pleasure and care like only a lover can, not a strong word, not a slap, pain only from the overwhelmed senses. He led with touches and orders, small twitches and curl of fingers that let rolls of pleasure run through the man’s body. He commanded him without ropes and chains, with only his own touches, words, kisses driving him mad.

He edged Alexios for hours that day bringing him to the brink of orgasm with his fingers then left him trembling and twitching on the floor, letting him shout out and beg only with his orgasm while driving him through it again and again with his mouth, fingers and body till he couldn’t move, couldn’t beg, couldn’t cum, couldn’t breathe. So loud, so desperate. He took him into his arms then, kept him safe, warm and cuddled, talked sweet nothings to him or just pressed kisses to his hair, caressed his back. I’m here. I’ve got you. - So mundane. So powerful. He was a _healer._ The man sucked his dick later like his life depended on it.

It has been strange seeing Alexios like that, so quiet, so calm, so satisfied and loving. He hasn’t seen him like that before;  the man had a mouth large as a temple door.

He wondered briefly whether the mercenary had somebody else to do this to him on his journey. He almost wished there was. Almost. Deep down he was too selfish.

Alexios was… grateful is not the right word for it. And now they were at it again, not like he haven’t realized before that the man was shattered and wounded, but he haven’t expected this kind of trust and need after three years of… It wasn’t passive aggressive silence. They had broken up clear and fair. That was now probably a matter to reconsider.

By the gods, they were difficult.

Now that, that the last piece of clothing was out of the way Alexios stood before him naked, arm held up, eyes not really focused on him still hyperaware of his every move. His blush crept lower to the chest. He pushed his palms against the man’s stomach near the navel, leaned closer so his breath caught the naked skin under.

“You never blushed before me. Were there really such a shortage of adequate partners?”

It was a whole different blush he got for that, a blush of embarrassment.

“I’m---“ Alexios tried to step back, let his arm down, but he stopped him.

“You stay right here” His tone was gentle like if he told him he loved him after a long night but firm nevertheless. “only talk and move when I say so.”

I’m not mad - was a statement he couldn’t say for the life of his.

He stepped back just an inch to admire the man, run his gaze and fingers on his chest, through the hair, the new scars he got despite the armor. Most of them healed on its own without ever been shown to a doctor despite the obvious severity. Most of them had been caused by fire and all of them were at least a weak old.

“You haven’t taken care of yourself.” he scolded kissing a scar on the man’s shoulder, then lower, pushing his tongue to the warm, hard skin and Alexios trembled. He was massaging the muscles and playing with the hairs near the groin, the man rock hard already in anticipation, arms almost shaking not from the exertion.

“You can touch me.” he relented.

And Alexios did – touched his hair though, took his face into his palm, kissed his forehead, pressed his lips to the skin like this was the most he dared. Silly man – he thought – Silly man, when have you ever been this innocent? And in that moment he knew something was greatly amiss. A serious problem, more than the break up, more than war. He should’ve been anticipating it by how the man behaved in the tavern. It got blamed on distraction.

He stepped back, looked the man into the eye, those big brown doe eye looked back at him with uncertainty.

Where have you been, Alexios?

“Get into the water!” he kept in character, it felt so much easier. Being there as a doctor would’ve been too cold, being there as a lover felt too uncertain. He didn’t trust the man – he realized. Trusted him when he first set foot to the village but didn’t trust him now. Because he left once? Came back broken? That wouldn’t have been fair. Wasn’t fair.

Alexios sat down in the wooden tub obediently, legs pulled up, arm in the water, head laid back to the edge, hair like a curtain along the wall. The water reached up to the man’s chest but hasn’t covered anything: the skin, the scars, the muscles, the dick, only diffracted the picture. It became dirty in no time from Alexios’ skin.

The man to he has said his goodbyes would have been jerking himself off in the tub looking smug, moaning fake to make him join or at least hard and jealous to a tub of water. He would have reached down into the water, would have grabbed and pleasured him till his moaning turned honest, his begging sweet and his kiss desperate. Now that wasn’t an option.

He still looked vulnerable: naked in a tub of water beaten and dirty while he was standing before him clothed and serious. Powerplay – except he didn’t felt himself any powerful not knowing what he was facing.

He got himself a chair, sat to the man’s head to be able to reach his hair. That too could’ve used some water but it was winter and just the greatest idiots chanced a serious illness. The small breads come undone under his fingers; he remade them just like back then on the long lazy nights when Alexios laid on his lap by the light of the lampion talking nonsense or stories from Kephalonia. He missed those nights.

“What happened to you Alexios?” he asked again and the same thing happened: the man started to answer then closed his mouth. The words didn’t come. He knew what it was like; saw it on oh so many times on soldiers, veterans, people who lost their child, a loved one. He knew that feeling when you want to desperately say something, but it’s too big for words, too heavy for a heart; there is no room enough for it to come out, so it gets trapped inside with the words, with the feelings: bitterness and pain till it eats everything else.

He’s seen it so many times, more in the war, felt it himself. Since then he was working on making life better for the people around: helping where he could, saving who he could, building the community where people could live in peace and harmony. It was harder now during the war, almost impossible, the clinic filled with dying soldiers, civilians who were at the wrong place the wrong time, beaten up trying to protect their fields, their children, women. He himself wasn’t a soldier, never had been, never will be; too many people died under his hands to be able to lift a sword. He fought with his brain and heart for the small things: children, families, homes… but in the chaos and hate he was failing as a healer.

It became harder after Alexios left – before that he hasn’t known how it feels like fighting alongside someone. Alongside a man who deep down has been looking for the exact same things he’s been fighting for.

And now the war has broken his man.

He kissed Alexios’ head gently, caressed his hair half braided and forgotten. He wanted to comfort him, make him feel safe. Didn’t want to be the strong one this time, couldn’t be, he missed the mercenary too much, there was too much leftover baggage after the break up, too much failure. He kissed his temple next, peppered his cheek and neck with light kisses, hand on the muscles of his shoulder massaging, feeling the tension melting slightly. Hand crept down to the man’s chest, to the pectorals, played with the wet hair there while tasting him, kissing him behind his ear, biting his neck. Alexios grabbed him then suddenly, pulled him up to his face, to the lips.

“My dear…” the man breathed. He felt the words on his lips and Alexios kissed him deep. It felt so painfully right. He stood to be able to channel more passion, more love, more ‘where have you been?’ to the kiss and to reach lower, past the abdomen, past the navel to…

Alexios grabbed his hand firmly but gently, circling his thumb over his pulse. He wanted to pull back, stand, just make a little bit of distance, because he was hurt, this hurt, it should’ve been make up sex, it should’ve been about feeling each other, should’ve been about love. But Alexios was not well: the war, his journey. He understood, he understood so clearly, have seen it so many times, dealt with it so many times, but now it was different, he was involved. He was the one being left behind during all this and he needed too, he needed… but it was now about Alexios. So he left the man touch his cheeks to his, kiss his forehead, let him pull back just enough to be able to look into his eyes.

“I can’t do this without telling you.” Alexios managed quietly still holding on to him under the water, still close, still looking everywhere but at him. So broken and so _vulnerable._ It made him want to not be the ever calm man he was. “I can’t do this to you.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“Not like this.” the man looked at himself in the bath naked. “I don’t know what I would do if you would leave through that door.”

And he was left there in a tub alone. He could catch the man’s gaze for a second, a gaze that spoke of so many questions and insecurities. Alexios didn’t trust him either the way he did before – he realized. This was the reason nothing worked, that everything felt so off, that every touch felt so unfamiliar. The man couldn’t open up, couldn’t let him close. For a second he felt the distance just in a breath away.

What have you done that would make me freak out this much? – he thought.

But instead he just said: “All right.”

It wasn’t really any other way for it to be.

“Wash up, Alexios!” handed him the soap and stood turning his back. He wasn’t watching this one, they needed space. Distance. Neither was wanted, but it wasn’t working any other way.

Alexios left the tub in a few minutes while he was staring out of the window to the winter landscape. Bare, white, unusual. It snowed; he’ll have a long way home in the morning. Behind his back he heard Alexios taking his clothes on again.

Like it had been a really really short intercourse. A one night stand with a too drunk man. Unsatisfactory, disappointing. He felt anxious and somehow dirty. Tired - he acknowledged dryly - but he knew also he won’t sleep after this for a long time.

Alexios sat down, he heard it and turned slowly, sat down before him to be on the same level and waited. No touching, no encouraging just waiting, hoping it won’t be too bad, that he is enough for it.

“I’ve killed Nikolaos.”

He nodded, that he knew already.

“I’ve killed my half brother when I had the chance. He wanted to fight for what I did and I wanted to kill him because he was loved by a father who tried to kill me. I killed my sister, because she was crazy and fought for bad people. She’s killed Phoebe and Periclase. I could’ve saved her but I never wanted to. I’ve found my mother but she wanted to move back to Sparta, I helped her winning back our old house by killing a king, but I would’ve never stayed there and she couldn’t look me in the eyes after I killed her child.”

So everyone he was looking for dead or lost by his own hand. His own blood even if they were lost such a long time ago. He only considered to kill his grandmother for sins unfathomable and unforgivable and still it was the most disgusting feeling ever. Alexios had talked him out of it, the same man who killed his owns. Because the man had been different here, still pure, still gentle, still considerate. Blood was important, but he hadn’t known these men and as terrible as this was, it could be worked out.

“I worked at both sides of the war, conquered lands just to fight for it again in a few months. I’ve started wars if I needed money, killed generals at both sides, massacred whole forts if I had been already inside without nobody asking for it.”

The man was watching the ground under them, voice flat, skin white almost greenish.

“I had contracts for bandits, for people who stole just to survive the war, for politicians who I’ve killed not even knowing what they were fighting for, if they wanted peace, their people to be safe, if it was the cult wanting them dead. I helped the most bloodthirsty civilians to take revenge for money and massacred camps if I already were at it.”

Voice flat, not a glance, not a move, not a tremble to be able to tell it wholly.

“I set corn fields and granaries on fire, destroyed the living of many people, caused famine and soldiers to turn against the farmers on contract or because I was near. I killed civilians who’s come too close or fought back when I stole or killed somebody on the streets. I killed a street kid who stole from me and killed everyone who came after this murderer. But when I killed the leader of the people who made Nicolaos to kill us and I was standing there I just… I just…” he gestured vaguely. “I thought winning would make it all better, but I’ve killed people worth a medium island and I can’t... I was just standing there and it was over and I couldn't...”

Silence. The inability to say anything. He strangely thought about his dinner over the fire from the afternoon. He thought about his bed and about how lucky all Phokis has been not having Alexios near, how lucky he's been, because seeing what the man had turned into would’ve broken his heart like hearing about these things did.

You left for this - he wanted to say. - You were a great man, love, and you left for this. Killed those people, killed civilians, caused so much suffering and destruction. You betrayed everything I was working for, what I hold dear. I’m a healer and you cause only suffering. - He felt tears but swallowed them, he felt the pang of something breaking in him and he swallowed that too.

“Why?” he managed.

Silence, a whine so quiet. “It was easier.”

And you came back. I wanted this place to be about healing and you came back. You did everything wrong in the world, everything I detest then you came back.

“I’m so sorry.”

You don’t get to sorry. – But he didn’t told him that either. - Nobody made you do it, nobody forced you. And you came back to hide in a tavern like a scum.

But it was only silence, so deafening silence and it snowed outside. Alexios didn’t look up, he sat like stone, like a man waiting rope. It was a freezing winter but the room felt colder than any room in any weather had any right to be - and the morning was still far away.

  
  



	4. Late night

He looked out of the window to the dark, cold night. It stopped snowing a while ago, the sky cleared and the moon shone down to the Chora of Delphi. The snow reflected the moonshine looking like some kind of crystal, way whiter than it ought to be. The whole image seemed surreal: this harsh winter, this silent, thick snow on everything like it tried to bury the city. There were animal traces on the streets almost black in the whiteness. Probably wolf.

Worrisome but not as worrisome as the cold and tension in the room.

After Alexios was finished they just sat there, the man trying to explain it: the whys, the motives, reasons, how this whole hunt draw him crazy, how what happened to Athens broke his soul, how the darkness he met, the cruelty, the disappointments, the deeds poisoned him, made him lose his way, the light and made him just so angry, so mad, so not caring. He was stronger than anybody else and he was so sick of bullshit, sick of the war, sick of the petty civilians, their bullshit. Sick of being considerate. Sick of not being a monster in human form. Then sick of being one.

He was stronger, mightier than anyone could be and that made him not to care. Made him cruel and a menace, a killer along the way. His ex turned to be everything he opposed, but as he looked at him after he run out of words he only saw exhaustion, disenchantment, regret and remorse.

Alexios carved to come home but was far too deep to face his lover. Had far too much blood on his hands.

It would’ve been so much easier not to understand.

Now he sat by the window watching the outside, Alexios lying in bed at the other wall on his back or on his side. He told him to sleep and have some rest, wasn’t able to say anything else. Anything constructive at least. Because it did matter, it did hurt, did embitter him. It made him imagine himself at home wondering about whether Alexios is all right out there. He wasn’t sure it’s better to know.

Except Alexios came home, came back to him. And he hadn’t had the heart to kick him with words. Whatever he could’ve said in his anger and disappointment Alexios knew. He wasn’t cruel and with that there was nothing left to say.

In the end - he mused - it wasn't about being a mercenary, wasn’t about killing for money; that happened, that was just a job like any other. Well, not quite, but back then he decided he can live with that. Back then as at the start of their relationship. And then it wasn’t a hard decision even if he never expected Alexios to turn out like this exactly. He himself wasn’t that pure or innocent it seemed. And Alexios turned out to be less than a hero too in the end. Although he will be remembered as one, he was sure. History did that selective memory thing where mass murder was forgotten in the light of other achievements. Or forgiven rather.

He wondered if he would be able to do that.

He wondered whether there is a limit in being a healer. Whether there is someone out there who doesn’t deserve healing. He helped everyone this far who’ve come on his way and if there will be somebody he will ever send away not worthy of forgiveness it won’t be Alexios. No matter how he feels, what the man had done, it won’t be the man he loved, who came back to him for shelter, security, home and a new start. Not the man who was clearly not sleeping from stress and distress. The lack of response and the rejection in it strained the mercenary.

It won’t be Alexios whatever that will mean for himself. That thought was almost frightening.

He turned back to the man from the window; saw the bright, open eyes watching him, reflecting the light of the moon. Like a cat. A sad cat. A great, sad, sick lion.

It was time to break the silence.

“Sit up, I’ll finish your hair!” he stood from the window.

Alexios did as was told hesitantly – of course without any indication of sleep or rest – not really knowing what to make of this. He sat behind him onto the bed. It was hardly bright enough to see the man’s hair and the shadows of the braids, his back and the scars on it were kept in darkness.

Alexios was clearly nervous under his working fingers, twitched every time the fingers touched skin accidentally. Tension oozed from his body, he could almost smell it. When he finished the braids he checked them running his fingers along them and only when he was satisfied and calmed a little through the process did he felt placid enough to ask.

“Where do you go from here?”

If it was possible Alexios tensed even harder.

“I… don’t know yet.”

“Is there a ship waiting for you at the harbor? Are there great dangers out there that you and you alone have to face?”

The tone and drama of the question made Alexios snicker briefly and he smiled fingers still playing with the braids, but the man turned somber again immediately.

“Will you leave again?” he asked as he got no answer for the previous one.

It wasn’t a question he wanted to ask because it didn’t matter considering what he will do next. If Alexios intended to leave in a few weeks, few month… that should’ve been fine, should’ve been the way of things and he would’ve helped him nevertheless, it just… Well, wasn’t it pathetic to give all of himself without the other even asking and with a prospect of being left behind again? Not like he wanted to leave Phokis, or be a big, fearsome or widely respected man. He adored Hippocrates but never wanted the whole Greek priesthood to breathe down on his neck in every waking minute. He was a healer here, a pillar, but no matter how devoted, strong or ready he was, he was expendable for the likes of Alexios.

He had known this too the time they got together. It didn’t hurt anymore, but he needed to know what he can expect. Alexios though was silent for a long time; so long he considered just dropping the question assuming a yes, but then the mercenary spoke.

“There might be times I’ll better off elsewhere. For a few weeks or for work. I don’t…” the man’s voice trembled with fear and emotions. “Lykaon… I… I can go, if you don’t want me here. I understand, I do, I just…”

He touched the man’s back with the tip of his finger silencing him immediately. Run his fingers along the scapula, the scars, the spine. Alexios shuddered. He laid his forehead onto the man’s back, nose touching, breath caressing the naked skin, palms on the two strong sides of the mercenary touching gently, reassuringly.

And the tension broke in Alexios.

“Please, love… I was an asshole in the way I’ve left. I am a damn asshole who did awful, unspeakable things along the way that should never be forgiven… but I want to come home. Please, I just want to… “ He heard the tears in his voice. “Please, love, let me come home to you...”

“Will they be after you?”

A deep whine escaped Alexios not unlike a wounded animal.

“I tried to take care of those, but I did too much harm for them not to be.”

So this is how it will be, looking behind their back, expecting the worst always on their toes, endangering the whole village and the calm life he had led. For a man betraying… not him. Well, him too, but it didn’t matter; Alexios betrayed himself, the man he’d been before. Who now wanted to come home. The plea echoed in his ears and in his heart, but the man couldn’t ask again assuming the worst and finding himself unworthy.

It was never about worth though but love. It wasn’t his place to forgive everything but it was his decision to love despite all he knew.

His head was still laid on the man’s back just above the two scapulars the breath of every sentence finding the skin.

“Will you stay?” the question escaped before he could swallow it.

“I want to. By the gods, I want to!”

He smiled briefly, pressed a kiss to the skin, nuzzled him, peppered kisses along his neck. Alexios shivered.

“Lykaon…”

“Come morning you come home with me. The house is still there, our bed, the room, the village hardly changed, it’s still a calm place, a safe one for now, you will be fine.”

And he will find something out for himself.

He let Alexios turn in his hands to face him, let him touch his forehead to his own, nuzzle him. He pulled the man into his embrace, enclosed him in his arms shielding him, protecting, laid Alexios’ head onto his shoulder, felt the man’s breath on his neck, the light kisses on the skin, a tongue pushing, and grateful, loving touches on his chest. Sensual but not sexual in an immediate sense.

Alexios have been always in for a good shag and these restrained touches showed clearly how tired and shattered he felt. Just like those few times back then.

He pulled the big body tenderly closer, let the man’s hand wander on him to feel, map, rediscover, let the lips taste his skin, the teeth to scratch, the tongue to push and the breaths to caress. And still he couldn’t let himself be claimed by him – he realized – somewhere deep inside he couldn’t relent to cross that line. Alexios felt it, not from the lack of response to his touches, or well, maybe from that despite the hard breaths, small kisses and gentle, responsive caresses. Maybe it was the lack of a real kiss, a lack of that one daring touch that goes just down enough, is brave enough.

It was his move to make but it lacked and Alexios didn’t push it despite the embrace and the kisses on his hairline.

The man didn’t asked whether he was angry, tired, both or neither. Honestly, he himself couldn’t answer the question why, he just knew that he wanted the man there, wanted to hold him, but there was still walls hindering anything else. After some time even Alexios stilled and they just sat there in the dark, in silence, watching the moonlight, holding each other, he stroking the man’s hair and back.

“I really want you home, you know that, right?” he said to reassure him. And he did, it was decided the moment he saw him in the tavern; and despite what he knew now, it hadn’t been a question really. “I’ve never lied to you and wouldn’t play you like this.”

Alexios stirred insecurely in his arms but nodded in the end, more hopeful than confident.

“Time. I know… It’s just…” the man’s fingers gripped his cloths; he hid his face into his neck.

He felt the lashes on his skin as the man closed his eyes. Alexios continued. “I love you, never stopped loving you and I won’t…”

Hurt him? Play him? Leave him? Destroy what he’s built here? He won’t cause sorrow and won’t use him to heal then leave him behind? Like that first time? By the gods, he wasn’t fair.

“Yeah.” he answered, but knew Alexios didn’t trust him wholly. Despite what he’s said the man was afraid and the walls in him too towered high.

Maybe the damage was greater after all than both of them had anticipated – he thought waiting for the sun to rise.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go with the smut at last.  
> It started as a pwp then feelings happened, but alas I will get there.


	5. Home again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I managed to write such and awful last chapter at first try I couldn't post it. So I thought it through, left it out for the system for a few weeks and ta-daa.  
> It's complete. (Though I almost dropped the project entirely)
> 
> Hope it won't disappoint.  
> I have some ideas how to proceed with them that I would work on as a side project if you like this one.
> 
> And of course thank you for reading.

They departed with the first rays of sunshine without any sleep or sex which left a deep uneasiness in his chest. It should’ve been right, but hasn’t been and giving in like this he would’ve only felt like he was giving a sacrifice. Love and sex should be never about sacrifice. Even if it was about Alexios – even more so if it was about Alexios.

He wondered if it will be the new normal.

The man pocketed the oil they bought thought. A sentimental decision: that was for their make up sex, their first night whenever that will happen. If it will happen at all – he mused riding Phobos behind Alexios holding onto him. They had been solid, powerful and calm together so in synch and now... It was his fault expecting it to be like three years ago. And well yes, it was Alexios' fault too, he just hadn't had the strength to be angry about that now.

There were only their marks in the untouched crispy snow heading toward the village. Theirs and a few animals: the wolves ventured down to the valley to prey leaving bloodstain here and there in the whiteness. They hardly attacked humans but this winter has been uncommonly harsh making even the animals suffer. Not to mention humans. The reserves were scarce in Phokis too and he thought about other lands where Alexios burned the granaries and the crop. How many were out there starving because of his man? How many were mourning? How many children were waiting for a father or a mother who would never come home again because Alexios had felt violent one day? His people suffered under the constant war and his mercenary made it so much worse at so many places.

Daylight shed a new light to these things, a saner one and he wondered whether the life around there will change better or worse now that Alexios arrived home.

They talked on the way about the village, the people there: who’ve stayed, who’ve left, who’ve died, how life was with the Spartans there. The mercenary never accepted work around there not to cause problem for them, but that was poor consolation too. He wondered what he would’ve done upon seeing the local fort drenched in blood even if there were Spartans in it. What had the healer done who had to face it? A useless train of thoughts since it had been already decided he won’t send the man away so he only tortured himself. Accepting the things the man had done didn’t mean it hadn’t happened or they could just not care about it though. Or well, didn’t mean he could just not care.

Alexios was pretending the careless casting nervous glances to him here and there and he wished he could just crumble those walls and let the man fuck him in earnest. Fuck this all out of the system, force the trust back inside. Like it could be done. He felt the tiredness pulling him down and was so fed up with the tension of the night.

Back at the village he left Alexios at the house to have some rest and eat something, but he left to check his patients. It was both duty and the need to free his thoughts just for a little bit. He spent his day there worrying about the sick and wounded: frostbite, cold, wolf bite, an ax wound by a clumsy lumberman, the usual winter sicknesses… Nothing really serious but it occupied him enough not to think too hard. Despite all, even the sun seemed to shine differently with the knowledge of Alexios being there and he felt... relieved. His man was home. Dangerous, sad, mad, troubling and painful but he was home and it gave him a calmness deep inside he thought would never feel again. A calmness no sane man would feel in this situation.

But by the gods he wasn't sane, he wasn't smart and definitely not careful or a good man. He could very well wave to his principles as they departed. Due to Alexios. Why would he gave up so much for Alexios? Everything – who was he kidding?

By the gods, he wasn't sane and wasn't that sad?

Midday he went home to check on the man, but the house was empty. The villagers told him the Eagle Bearer to be out there in the woods helping out the hunters and the lumbers. He hadn’t had the time to look for him but Alexios was loud enough for his laughter and shouts to be heard even in the village. And for a moment it did felt like those good times from three years ago.

The next time he actually met the man was near sundown from the door of his house. The temperature dropped, but the sky was still clear, the setting sun painted the thick snow red and orange. Alexios was heading from the woods laughing, joking and telling tales in the ring of adoring villagers while five-six kids were hanging from his lifted arms. The kids were trying to get the upper hand, force the arms down, but he could hold all six of them without breaking a sweat while talking miles at the same time. Impressive, loud and flashy – an Alexios he knew.

“He helped a lot today.” said Artos from beside him suddenly. “Killed some wolf, chopped some wood, sent some soldier away who demanded half of the prey.” For the questioning glance the man shrugged. “I’m just sayin’. He looked like he’s in trouble with you.”

“Did he say something?”

“Naw, just he came back to you and will set camp if you let him.”

He wanted to argue that Alexios very well does as he pleases like always without his consent, but of course that was untrue. The man who arrived to the village back then felt so young despite being actually older, so innocent and naïve despite what happened to him and the life he lived in Kephalonia. Loud, flashy, strong confident… This man now looked at him with concern and need and uncertainty. No matter how he behaved with others, deep down his innocence was befouled, his horns broken down, his strength and temper turned against him and the world.

“Much have changed in the last three years. Not everything for the better.”

“So?”

At that moment Alexios, like he felt his eyes on him, looked at him, their eyes met and like a thunderbolt the man’s demeanor changed, like he sobered, the fight left him, put the kids down and excused himself. The man was heading toward him but hesitantly, fearing him, fearing his words, another silent night and the prospect of sleeping somewhere else. How different the whole situation was compared to the inn.

“He will bring trouble and you will hear stories you wouldn’t hear about good men.”

“Ain’t everyone deserving a second chance?”

“No.” he said firmly despite helping anyone coming to him. That was him redeeming what his family has destroyed. Alexios should’ve been part of that, all the suffering in the man’s life started with his grandmother but he refused to think like that about Alexios.

“Yet you brought him here.” Artos said watching the approaching Alexios too. “You know the people here love you and you may break some hearts on the way but as long as that man is yours he’ll have a home here with us.”

He nodded and smiled at the man gratefully. Artos patted Alexios’ shoulder as he left, the mercenary looked after him.

“I didn’t want to bother. Is he…?” he motioned vaguely between him and Artos’ receding back.

“A lover?” he arched his brow. “Did your every conversation end in fucking?”

Alexios looked embarrassed. “I had lovers. Some. Men and women but nothing serious, nothing that mattered. It’s just...”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Don’t I?” the man looked him in the eyes, the deep doe eyes filled with sorrow. “Don’t you have a bad enough opinion of me?”

He did, kind of, not really, his feelings were still conflicted and he rather just called the man in for dinner, made him sit to the table, put a plate of food before him and himself.

They ate but Alexios was slow, gaze strictly on the plate, taking his time with every bite. He already put his plate away when the man still had it half full. He watched him for a time, thought about what Artos had said, about this whole situation. Alexios was the one who broke the silence.

“I wish you would care enough to want me to explain myself.”

“You can’t be this cruel.” he stood. “How long should I have been caring? Should I have been sitting at my door crying after you? Break because you were gone? I hadn’t. We talked about this, you’ve left through that door. And I do not care who or how much you fucked while gone.”

It would hurt too much, he couldn’t… but it came out harsh, way harsher than he intended. He forced himself to calm down, looked the man in the eye, saw the tension and uncertainty he became so familiar with in the last few hours. He always though his gently soul wouldn't be cruel to anyone, guess that has been lie too.

“I hadn't had anyone serious either.” he said. It wasn't like an apology, but giving in... giving this thing between them yet another chance.

Alexios put his spoon down, looked up carefully.“Why did you said yes to me?”

“Now or back then?”

“Both.”

“I have fallen in love” he smiled gently. “I have fallen in love with a kind man who made me laugh and reminded me how much I enjoy the life I'm living. You may've heard of him.”

“You are not funny.” the man said despite the delight in his eyes. How long had it been he said anyone he loved them... Alexios though was fidgeting again. “What if I won’t be that man ever again? I've done such awful things I almost expect my hands to fall off, I... What if I have to go again?”

He just stood there not having an answer for a long time for the numbness and disappointment filling him upon the question. It all has been decided, that he will help, he will give in, he will stand guard, heal and step back when the time comes again just like before, just like every time, because people like Alexios just left behind the people like him when not needed anymore no matter how great they thought that love has been. Maybe it has been his better judgment, his instincts saving him the night before, not letting him in. Maybe it was the experience of the man he turned into the last three years.

“People change” he answered at last. “I've changed too, you know.”

“I...”

“Yes, I know you had hard work in changing yourself.” that sounded almost accusatory. “And if you want to go, you go and that's it. I won't ever ask you to stay, maybe one day I won't open the door for you, but I won't ask you. I don't need promises.”

“But you do, don't you?” Alexios stood. “Not promises but something more, because you don't trust me! You look at me like I'm a stranger, a thief! And I'm a damn thief alright, but...” the fight left the man. “What do you want, Lykaon? What can I do? Because I've nothing left: no honor, no principles, no reliability or moral, I've played all of those and I don't even have anything left to swear upon that I won't betray you ever again. Every world I could say is empty and I can't show you that I mean it if you don't give me the time!” he shook his head. “I want to come home, be with you, protect you, love you... I'm asking so much. “he said like he just realized. “But I can't prove myself if you won't give me the time.”

In the following silence they just stared at each other. Alexios was right, what could he ask from a man he turned into? It was on him again.

“It's late.”

Alexios looked like he slapped him, turned his gaze to the walls, strengthened his posture like he could bear the rejection this way. He nodded at last. “Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?”

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

It was on him again: on his bravery, on his trust, his life, his heart, his love, on how much he dares to risk, on how much he dares to loose. Because he couldn't ask, not now, there was nothing the man could offer. If anything would happen it would happen from his heart, hist trust, his bravery... Only time will tell whether he was smart enough. Smarter than last time. Only time will tell if he really was the one to loose more.

“You don't have to. Take off your clothes!” Alexios did and he did too back turned to the man. As he faced him the mercenary stood nervous in his loincloths. “That too.” he motioned toward the leftover pieces.

He put some logs to the fire to keep them warm for the night, then he lied down to his bed and Alexios was still standing at the middle of the room unsure. He rolled up the blanket invitation and that at last made the man move.

They lied in silence for long in the dim light facing each other, gaze locked, breathing anything but even and calm. Alexios had such beautiful, calm doe eyes, nice stubble, hoarse on the skin, feeling so good on the thighs. It all was on him, maybe more than their plain happiness. And it all was...  
He reached out to touch the man's face, he felt the relief in his fingers, in the motion how Alexios closed his eyes, let out a breath, pushed closer without a move; it made him smile, caress the cheeks, caress the stubble. The man saw that smile as he opened his eyes again.

“Who would've thought you would lie in this bad again?”

“There is no place I would rather be.” the silent answer turned his smile even gentler.

It all was on him and he decided.

“Touch me then!”

Like he opened a door, broke the restrains Alexios pounced him, turned him on his back already kissing the soul out of him, bodies flush together, the man's legs at his two sides, dick pushed against his thigh. Alexios moved on him, already slick, big and hard, he groaned, the mercenary did too in anticipation, in hunger in delight, his strong back above him, his muscled thighs and arms too and he moved again pushing against his thigh again and again then to his groin, to his dick and the friction was so good and familiar and needed. Needed so much. He grabbed his ass, the back of his hair and pulled him closer, harder upon himself, harder down, closer, to get more skin, more friction, more dick, more feeling and kiss and control and man.

“Let me...” Alexios panted on his lips and he nodded. The man went straight for his dick, no bites, no cares, touches, no play just the need and the hunger, the satisfaction, the justification, the closeness, the 'missed you'-s, the 'where have you been'-s. Just Alexios. And he felt the breath, the lips, the teeth just for a fraction of a second, the warmth, the tongue, the saliva, the caress along the vein of his dick, the softness, the palate, the hard muscles of the mouth, the throat, the choke, the swallow around his glans, the sucking, the bobbing of a head, the embrace of a tongue and he cried out eyes closed face toward the ceiling, back arched, grabbing the sheets and grabbing the hair while strong hands were keeping him down by his hip and a wide back was keeping his legs apart. Helpless and safe. Vulnerable and safe. Minutes passed and the head never slowed down for a second, Alexios sucked him so hard, so deep, so utterly and he felt the muscles of the throat around, the nose in the hair of the groin, the breath on the base, the tongue pushing and caressing and embracing, the cheeks hollowing and when he was the deepest, down the throat in warmth and wetness he grabbed the man's hair tighter, forced him down, kept him there and Alexios choked and trashed and moaned but he didn't care, moved his hip, fucked his mouth in earnest: almost out and back completely flush to the base, the skin to the hair, dick hitting the back of the throat, moan resonating along the flesh, his balls tightened, felt warm, burning, soft and great and loud so he pushed again and again again fingers in his hip, so much want from the man, so much need, so much reassurance. He came with the next swallow, next moan, next touch, next caress deep down the man's throat and Alexios choked, tried to breathe and caught and hold him all the way through getting every last drop, every last twitch.

The air felt cold on his wet dick, as his lover let him go, but he felt warm, spent, mushy. The kisses arrived, he felt Alexios lips and stubble on his thigh, on his groin around his softening dick. He smiled, hummed, closed his eyes fingers still in the man's hair, gently this time, caressing softly, lovingly. The kisses continued on his abdomen, on the fingermarks and upwards. He sat up though still felt like his bones turned into sponge, he pulled the man up to his level, pushed his forehead against his, kissed him.

“So good for me.” he caressed his cheek. Alexios breathed hard aroused to his limits. “And so hard.” The man moaned hard as he run his fingers down along his chest and abdomen to touch the purple tip of his dick. It twitched under the touch. The mercenary grabbed his hand.

“Help me...”

“What do you wish?”

“You. Fast. Hard. Honest.”

For that last one he looked him in the eye again, caressed his cheek, kissed him again, then turned, lied on his side back to Alexios. They didn't have the time, nor the patience to prepare him, not now, not in this rush, not in this heat, but they will, when they'll be calmer, saner, less desperate, less afraid, but for now he turned his back and Alexios lied fast behind him, whole body flushed again, the man's dick at his ass, at his thighs and he heard his breath just beside his ears, the words of love an reassurance flowing without care or filter, the strong arms pulling him even closer, palm flat on his chest, other hand under his head, kisses on his neck and bites, and he felt the hard skin of the scars against his soft one as a slick hard dick slipped between his clenched thighs, and Alexios moaned so deep it was relief and begging the same time and he pushed back to him, held his hand on his chest encouraging, moaning with him. So one hard push, two, three, a docent, panting, he let the man use his body, give it to him and wished they would fuck in earnest, but knew they will and Alexios turned him to his stomach and one fast push, two, three and the man came lying on his back, lips on his neck kissing, crying out, breathing hard, fingers entwined on the sheets.

Minutes passed panting, in a bliss.

Then Alexios rolled off of him, he turned to face the man sweaty, flushed and happy. They lied there just like before but now tired, dirty, sticky, smiling, content, happy, holding hands. It was the mercenary who reached out this time with his other hand running the finger along his cheek. They lied so close he could feel his breath on his skin, the warmth of his body, those deep doe eyes filled with so much love and gentleness. The man pulled him to his chest even closer.

“I've been such a fool not coming home right away.” he breathed. I love you. I've missed you for so long, so much. He knew, he hoped he knew.

“I'll give you the time to prove. I will help. We'll make this work, make it right. You are safe with me love.”

And Alexios just pulled him closer, hid his face to his hair, let him hold him through the storm of emotions, the stress and the sadness, the desperation and loneliness finding their way out of him at last with the tears and trembles in his arms, under the kisses in the night. All night.

He held him and thought: if they were lucky enough the mercenary's past will stay outside the doors forever.

But of course, they were never lucky enough...


End file.
